It has been several days since I have penned an entry. There has been little of note to have occurred, but there is a small amount worthy of mention.

I have left Dalaran. The city is delightful, and many of it's inhabitants remind me of my dear departed Pappa, but I felt myself lingering for far beyond the necessary. So, I took a windrider to Vengeance Landing (curious name, that, vengeance upon what, I wonder. I shall have to look into that inquiry.) and boarded the next available zeppelin to Undercity. I must admit a curiosity of this metropolis constructed deep beneath the ruins of the once great human capital, but I did not venture beyond the ravaged courtyard, now empty and and crumbling, littered with tombstones that mark the final resting places of those who have long passed into what lies beyond. Undercity was a sight to witness at another time, for now I was intent upon my destination.

I had been instructed that upon arriving in that forlorn and somber lawn, I should follow the wall to my right, ascending the stairs when I come to them and heading into the the large chamber atop. I found within this enclosure a glowing orb almost twice my measure in height, crimson in color. It was surrounded and held aloft by a golden-hued metal shaped into delicate swoops and arms.

I circled this structure, studying it in an attempt to discern the magics that infused it. Unfortunately, due either to the skill of the creators or my lack thereof, it's inner workings were a mystery to me. With a sigh, I completed my circuit, coming to rest upon a mural inlaid at my feet. Wtih a start, I recognized it as the banner of the Alliance. I should not be surprised, considering Lordaeron once seated the leaders of that partnership. The irony that the former pinnacle of the human empire was now a bustling hub for the opposing faction brought forth a chuckle from deep within me.

I reached out to touch the globe. The magic caused a tingling sensation along my fingertips, infusing me with the sensation of casting a spell with no conscious volition of my own. In fact, I had the distinct impression that the magic used was not my own, but rather that of another that had lain in wait for one to come along and awaken it. My vision began to cloud with light, and once it cleared I found myself standing in a different location, that of a quiet chamber behind a much larger enclosure, the touch of the alien magic departed.

Silvermoon is a beautiful place, magic abounds in such a way as to be almost forceful an overwhelming. However, the inhabitants of this place are...well, I hesitate to commit myself to a blanket generalization, but the ones I have encountered have been less than friendly. I seem to be judged by my race before I am even given the opportunity to speak, and as such am having some difficulty locating a magister to speak with. I do hope I am not denied access to the libraries and tutors without being afforded a chance to sue for admittance. I should not like to leave here with a poor opinion of these people, regardless of the fact that as a whole they seem to have one of me.

Upon recommendation, I have take up residence at the Silvermoon Inn. the proximity of a quarter called "Murder Row" is disconcerting, but I have been assured that should I not venture into it's more shadowy regions, that I shall be quite safe. I am reluctant to confide, even in the pages of this private journal, that the prospect of danger is a thrilling and enticing prospect.

The Exchange, which borders this establishment at the opposite side, is a lovely place, bright and open with bordered lawns and mature oaks - it even boasts a fountain near which are several comfortable benches suitable for passing a quiet hour in meditation. In fact, I think I shall do just that.